


End Run

by saraid



Series: Knights Errant [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraid/pseuds/saraid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This secret is difficult to protect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End Run

"Qui-Gon!" The call wasn't quite shouted, but loud in the long hallway, several Jedi and padawans traveling from the dining hall, to and fro, the training rooms on the next level. It was dinner hour and Qui-Gon himself had just finished a scant meal that had included Eutrusian snowbird, to his absent lover's disgust.

That he could feel Obi-Wan's disgust over the lightyears that separated them was in itself strange and electrifying. It had been less than a week since their illicit rendezvous on Rigel, where they had spent four days in occasionally blissful, often tormented privacy. They had made love as many ways and places as they could find, and the bond between them had deepened until it settled  
into its present state; a deep mental and spiritual connection that included active telepathy. Telepathy that he was shielding fiercely, here in the Jedi Temple.

"Qui-Gon!" The call repeated, sounding amused and exasperated, and he turned, reluctantly, to face the man that spoke to him thus, waiting while he caught up. Mace Windu walked quickly, he always had, as if he had always had someplace he needed to be.

"Mace." Qui-Gon greeted him with a nod and a half-smile. One of his oldest friends, and seeing him brought nothing but dread to his heart. The price of this secret was getting higher every day.

"Lost in thought again? I remember the days you would wander the halls and claim it as meditation." A large dark hand closed on his shoulder affectionately.

"I am - not exactly myself today." Qui-Gon said, feeling the warmth of that hand and holding in the sigh he wanted to breathe. More, he wanted to reach out to Obi-Wan and replace the warmth he now felt with the warmth of his lover's touch, mental or physical.

"Are you well?" Concern on the handsome face, and Mace stepped closer, hands on both shoulders now. "You look pale. Have you eaten?"

"A bite."

"That foul snowbird, wasn't it? I understand the concept of penance, Qui-Gon, but surely you could have chosen something marginally more palatable and still achieved the same affect?" Chiding, teasing, Mace sounded both affectionate and worried. "Come to my quarters. I was hoping to spend some time with you this visit anyhow. I have some splendid smoked cheese that I've been saving and it's just the sort of thing to touch your appetite."

 

Gently he encouraged Qui-Gon to turn with him, but the larger man resisted  
passively.

Other Jedi passed them, their eyes sliding over the pair, who were, to all appearances, old friends getting together between missions. Or perhaps casual lovers, planning an assignation. On truth, he and Mace had been both and he feared suddenly that the younger man wished to be that again.

The warmth of Mace's hands was quickly becoming unpleasant. Irritating, even. His own response startled Qui-Gon and he controlled it sternly. This would not do, not at all.

It wasn't just that the risk of being exposed was so great here, but Mace was his friend. Did this new bond with Obi-Wan mean that he had to give that up? Give up all other realtionships? Certainly he didn't want anyone else sexually... but even friendship?

"Qui-Gon?" For some unknown reason, only Obi-Wan had ever used the shortened form of his name and suddenly Qui-Gon wondered why.

Mace looked worried now, his hands tightening.

"I'm taking you to my quarters. You need to sit down, and tell me what's wrong." He said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"I think that would be a good idea." The older Jedi Master replied softly. At the very edge of his awareness he could feel Obi-Wan's concern at this course of action, muted by their mutual shields and the care they were taking.  
They were already on the Masters' level, and Mace's rooms were but a  
few doors down from Qui-Gon's, so they arrived quickly. Once inside Mace  
pushed the taller man to the Gronlian sofa he favored, a large  
multi-sectioned construction of gel-filled cells, warmed by the algae growths that lived happily within them.

"Only you would have a couch that you have to feed." Qui-Gon commented as he had before, relaxing into it. Immediately the algae detected his presence and began to gather beneath him, their tiny movements soothing.

It might have seemed cruel to keep them so, but this particular sort of algae creature didn't survive long outside a controlled environment and here, within the walls of the Temple, if they were unhappy, it would have stood out in the Force.

One advantage of the Force, he thought as the teeny things bumped against him, separated from his body by only a thin layer of transparent blue pseudo-hide, also a Gronlian product; If something is unhappy or hurting, anyone trained to see it can.

As far as anyone could tell, the algae were completely at peace in Mace Windu's couch.

Mace returned to the main room bearing a tray set with two mugs that steamed faintly and Qui-Gon sighed. It could also be a disadvantage, when one was trying to conceal something.

"Here, drink this. A new recipe." A dark green mug, with a shiny mottled glaze, was pressed into his hands and Qui-Gon sat up, only now realizing he'd been relaxing. He checked his shields - everything in place - and breathed a sigh of relief before sniffing at the pungent brew.

"What is it?" He allowed himself to sound suspicious; it was expected. Truly, though, he didn't really care. His earlier desire to spend time with his friend was fading fast, and weariness was overtaking him again.

"Something to put color in your face." His friend said, a bit sternly. Sitting on the other end of the couch, Mace folded his hands in his lap, robe falling in perfect folds around him, and stared until Qui-Gon reluctantly lifted the mug and sipped cautiously. The hot liquid stung, but it tasted rich, and refreshed his mouth and tongue, so he took a deeper gulp. "Drink it all." Mace instructed and Qui-Gon shot him a glance, mildly angered by the tone, but obeying it. They were friends, had been friends for a very long time... though that friendship became more strained with every confrontation between Qui-Gon and the Council.

Unwilling to pursue that line of thought, he drank his tea in measured swallows, until it was gone, and he did feel warmer, perhaps slightly flushed. There was some mild stimulant in it, he guessed, but certainly nothing forbidden. Mace Windu would never do anything forbidden by the Code. 

And that, of course, was the problem.

If Qui-Gon were to confide in his friend - to tell him of the bond he had formed with his former Padawan, the depth and breadth of it - he had no doubt that Mace would disapprove. He might be sympathetic, would probably commiserate. But he would also, however gently, condemn. He would be unable, by his very nature, to turn his back on the violation of the Code. It would be taken to the Council, their 'sin' laid bare and their hearts and minds probed for the cause of this failing.

Qui-Gon could not, would not, put Obi-Wan through that. So he simply set his mug aside and watched Mace as Mace watched him.

At last the Council member spoke.

"I spoke to Knight Kenobi the last time he was on Coruscant." He said, casually, no longer stern - but his eyes watched sharply. "It appeared to me that he was getting too close to his current lover in the Order. As I know well that you taught him to take care in such relationships, I was surprised by his behavior."

 

"What was his response?" Qui-Gon held himself carefully. Inside his head fear began to burn, a small ember catching, but he snuffed it as gently as he could, and pulled back even farther from the bond that tied him to Obi-Wan. His lover's reaction to that was almost physically painful.

"He said that he was aware of the problem and had taken steps to remedy it. That he and his friend Bant would not continue as lovers. He didn't tell you about this?"

"Obi-Wan and I are very seldom assigned missions where we can communicate freely." He would not lie, not to Mace or the Council, but there were many ways to bend the truth. "If this was during the rank-and-file competition, we didn't get much time to just sit and talk." And they hadn't. Most of that time had been spent making love, and paying for it. And practicing for the competitions. Lots of practicing.

"I know how hard it can be, that first year away from a Padawan. You worry about them, as if they were your own children." Mace smiled.

"Obi-Wan ascended to Knighthood more than two years ago." Qui-Gon allowed himself to chuckle softly, as if amused. "Time moves more quickly with each passing year. How is your daughter, Mace? She's an Initiate this year, is she not? She would be ten now? Or eleven?" Changing the subject was a time-honored method of rebuke. But in himself Qui-Gon knew that he had never considered Obi-Wan as a son. Not even at first, when he was a desperate twelve and then a dizzy thirteen. They had bonded on Bandomeer as Master and Padawan, then later as friends, but never taken the roles of father and son. Thankfully.

Or perhaps not. If he had ever seen the younger man as a substitute child - for, unlike Mace, he had none of his own - they would never have become what they were now. Despite the pain and the shame and the guilt, he would not give that up. Not unless the Force itself demanded that. 

It did not.

"Initiate Tace is progressing well." There was little pride in the man's voice. Though the girl had been named after his peoples' custom, he had had little to do with her upbringing. The Temple had claimed her as an infant, and that had led to a separation between Mace and the girl's mother. "She was eleven on her last naming day. Were you..." He leaned forward and suddenly his face was animated, even eager. "No." he said softly, the expression fading. "Of course not. You already have a Padawan."

The sorrow in those dark eyes hit Qui-Gon hard and he gave himself a moment to consider his response. It made sense, that Mace would want him to take the man's only child as Padawan. With their friendship Mace would be able to see her more often, take a more active role in her life than he could while the girl was an Initiate.

"Yes." He nodded, searching his mind for something comforting to say. This pain, Mace's pain, was new to him. It seemed that his friend really had wanted to talk. "Though he is still at the Temple, studying to catch up, Anakin is my Padawan." A thought occurred to him, and he wondered if he should even suggest it. Would it make the situation better or worse? "But Obi-Wan is ready to take an Apprentice, in my opinion."

"Kenobi?" Mace wrinkled his face. "I would prefer someone with more  
experience. A Master."

"I would not call myself a successful Master, Mace." Qui-Gon smiled at him ruefully. "Certainly my first apprentice is doing well, and Obi-Wan is an excellent Knight, but there is always what came between them to consider." It was hard to speak of, even now. So many years ago, but so painful. Such a tremendous failure. "Besides, Tace will not be ready for another year or more, that would give you time to introduce them, see if there is any interest."

Mace nodded, leaned back slightly. His hands were clasped more tightly in his lap. 

"I will think about what you have suggested." He said, and Qui-Gon could tell that he meant it. "As your student, Obi-Wan might be more qualified than others to take on my daughter."

"Are you saying that she is more stubborn than you are, old friend?" Qui-Gon laughed out loud, hands on his knees. He still felt tired, still yearned to reach for Obi, but could not. Could not.

"If such a thing were possible, Tace would prove it so." Mace laughed with him, but there was an undercurrent of sadness in it. This was why Qui-Gon, despite the subtle urging of others, had decided he would not sire children. If they were Force-sensitive, the Temple took them. If they were not, he would miss much of their childhood, working as a Jedi. Either way, he had never felt a strong urge to pass along his genetic material. But he had never thought to ask if Obi-Wan wanted to. It was something they would have to discuss.

But if they left the order... his mind whispered. If they left the order, they could have children, and raise them, and he could know them as any other father would. Obi-Wan's children, or his own, it would matter not... he shelved the thought brusquely, oddly disturbed by it. Something to meditate upon later.

Mace was looking at him again, a mixture of worry and hope in his eyes.

"Qui-Gon?" The worry was taking precedence.

"Just thinking, Mace. Reviewing the reasons I did not have children, and finding them valid once again. I am sorry if I seem rude."

"Not rude. Distracted." Mace said. "You know, I didn't invite you here simply because you looked tired. Though you did, and you do. It has been some time since I took a lover, and I was wondering -" He stopped himself and swallowed, a sign of vulnerability that endeared him to the listening man. "I was hoping that we could resume our relationship."

"How long has it been?" A gentle question, asked to hide the fact that Qui-Gon was silently panicking. What should he do?! Mace acted as if he needed him, but Obi-Wan was his chosen mate, chosen for him by the Force itself, even if they did not know how or why. Would he be rejecting that gift, rejecting his lover, if he shared his body with another?

"There were a few - casual - affairs, after Tace's mother." Mace said slowly. "Nothing in several years. I find myself... anxious... about engaging in intimate relations again. So I thought to turn to someone I know well, someone that I trust." Spreading his large, dark hands wide, palms up, Mace stared at Qui-Gon as if he was trying to read his mind. But Qui-Gon knew he was well-shielded, and that he did not dare lower those shields, because them Mace would know. "Qui-Gon." Mace said softly, a with a hint of anger. "Would you make me beg? We were very - compatible, as I recall."

"Yes, we did enjoy each other's company." Qui-Gon answered softly, bowing his head, accepting the inevitable. The Force screamed that this was wrong, but he didn't see how he could get out of it gracefully. Not without many questions, or a visit to the Healers, both of which would put he and Obi-Wan at more risk. 

Forgive me, Obi, he thought with great sadness. He is my friend, and he's hurting. For many reasons, I need to do this.

"But...?" Mace looked ready to explode, or implode, or something equally messy and undignified.

"Of course, Mace." Standing, Qui-Gon extended a hand to his old friend. "I would be pleased to become your lover again."

Mace grasped it tightly, and stood as well, stepping close. 

"For a moment there I thought you would refuse me." He said, trying to laugh it off, but obviously curious about the hesitation. "But I knew – I have always known - that despite your flaws, you are a good man, Qui-Gon Jinn. A true friend." He leaned in and their lips met in a chaste kiss. Mace tasted of herbal tea and the leaves he chewed, woody and dark.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to the kiss and a sharp pain stabbed through his head. He gasped, and Mace's hands went to his waist, holding him.

"Perhaps we should lie down." He drew back, smiled at Qui-Gon. "Since you are not at your best at the moment." Then he paused, and worry flickered in his eyes again. "You are up to this? We can wait, if you need to rest first. I know better than to suggest the healers, you always refuse to go until you're almost incapable of it."

"No - no, I'm fine." Qui-Gon objected, the pain fading as quickly as it had come. It had only surprised him, that kiss. There was no connection between it and the pain. He was certain. More likely the pain was from his continuing control of his bond with Obi-Wan. The Force was getting even again. Sometimes it seemed alive, even sentient. Capricious as well. "Lying down would be good."

"Good." Mace smiled, and it was a pleasant smile, free of anger and stubbornness. It was the smile of his old friend, his adolescent lover. 

He led Qui-Gon into the bedroom, where a large bed, if it could be called such, composed of the same material as the couch, jiggled in a corner, supported by the walls on two sides and a sturdy frame around the curved outer edge.

"This is new." Qui-Gon commented as he sat and began pulling his boots off. Mace followed suit, sitting beside him, stripping off boots and robe and outer tunic. "As comfortable as the couch? You're becoming a closet hedonist, Mace." He tried to tease, light-hearted, but the words felt stilted.

"I'll have you know there's nothing hedonistic in my closet." Mace replied smartly, reaching for him. As soon as those hands closed on his shoulders Qui-Gon moaned. The pain returned, sharper now, more clearly defined.

"I'll have to - look - later..." He managed to gasp out, and then Mace was bearing him back on the bed and lying beside him, pulling him close, his hands traveling freely over Qui-Gon's still-clothed form.

The pain spiked and nausea rose and it was all Qui-Gon could do to suppress the urge to retch. What was wrong with him?! Mace was in no way repugnant or revolting. He had always found the other man's eagerness attractive, his dark eyes, now half-closed, stirring in a sexual way. But now his stomach twisted and threatened to rebel and his head pounded like someone was driving a spike through it. He moaned, long and low. 

"I don't remember you being the noisy type." Mace chuckled, sucking the skin behind his neck. One hand insinuated itself into Qui-Gon's tunic and sought a nipple, stroked it. It refused to harden.

Qui-Gon moaned again, the pain beginning to overwhelm him, and he thrashed slightly. One hand fisted in the bedcovers and Mace pulled back, stared down at him.

Qui-Gon could feel the cold sweat that coated his face, the thick saliva that coated his tongue. It felt like it was filling his throat, he was going to choke on it. Qui-Gon gagged, and bile rushed up, burning. He couldn't breathe.

"Qui-Gon?" Mace sounded worried now. "Qui-Gon!" A demand for his attention. "What is the mattwe with you, man?" Strong hands gripped his shoulders, shook him. Qui-Gon managed to pry open eyes he didn't remember closing, and was shocked to feel hot tears leaking from the corners. "You are ill." Mace sounded half-pleased to be proven right, but Qui-Gon could only push at his chest, trying to move him away. He needed - he needed -

He needed Obi-Wan. At the last instant he realized what he was doing and slammed the link shut before he called for his lover, but it was a near thing.

"Sorry..." He gasped out. "Must have been - something I ate..."

"That thrice-damned snowbird." Mace swore. "It's cursed hard to keep it from spoiling. Why do you insist on eating that, Qui-Gon? Just because it was Xanatos' favorite food doesn't mean you have to torture yourself with it." He was sitting up now, moving away from Qui-Gon, and the air was getting cooler, easier to suck into burning lungs. "Lie down, dammit, and rest. I'm going out for a bit, to the library. I want you to rest here, and I'll bring you some more tea when I return." His tone was resentful, but kind, and, unable to think clearly, Qui-Gon allowed himself to be laid back and tucked under a light sheet.

"I am sorry, Mace," he whispered as his friend rose to leave.

"Yes, well. It's not your fault." Mace smiled at him, looking fondly amused. He stroked Qui-Gon's forehead gently and the pain spiked again. "I hope you feel better in the morning. Perhaps then we can continue this?"

"Perhaps." Qui-Gon answered faintly. He just wanted Mace to leave, to go away and never come back, so he could open his mind, open his mind and reach for Obi-Wan, reach for him and touch him... it wouldn't be enough, not to ease this pain, but it was all he could have. Here. Now.

"Rest." Mace said. He bent and kissed Qui-Gon's forehead. He could be tender and kind. The pain was eating Qui-Gon alive.

As soon as the door closed behind Mace, Qui-Gon rolled over and grasped a pillow, pulled it tight to his face, and screamed into it. Hoarsely, roughly, and then again. His abused throat protested by hurting worse, but he couldn't seem to stop. 

There was a rushing in his head, the sound of a million fluttering wings, and then Obi-Wan's voice, panicked and desperate.

/MASTER! Master! Qui-Gon! What is it, what's happened?!!!/

/Obi.../ He sighed mentally and the pain receded a tiny bit. His hands flexed on the pillow, his mouth and nose pressed into it, the covering sodden with his saliva, clammy with it, his beard slimy. /So sorry.. shouldn't have.../ He tried to apologize, but the fear that was in him was raising its ugly head. They would be heard, they would be found out.

/Sorry for what? You're hurting, Qui, I can feel it, how badly you're hurting. Let me come to you./

It was clear that Obi-Wan was hurting as well. That his own pain was gleefully attacking his lover. Vulnerable through and because of this link.

/Let me help you./ Obi-Wan pleaded.

/What can you do? You are there. I am here. I've made a mistake, Obi. We cannot control this. We cannot conceal it. It will overwhelm us and we will become slaves to it./

/You're wrong./ His lover's reply was forceful, but that force was wrapped in all the love he felt. All the love in the world, it felt like to Qui-Gon at this moment. /It is difficult, but we will prevail. Let me show you how./

/Show me? You're thousands of light years away, Obi, and I - I am in Mace Windu's bed./

/I know./ There was pain in the two words, but still the love was there. /I do not own you, Qui. Love is not a possession. But the Force seems to disagree with this path you have chosen./

/He needed - and I was afraid - /

/I know./

Warmth and love and, amazingly, the touch of his lover's hands...all of these eased Qui-Gon gradually out of his tense, pained posture. He turned his head to the side and felt lips brush his own. Warm and soft and familiar.

/Obi? What are you doing?/

/Loving you./

The answer was simple, and the fear flowed out of him as if it had never been. What did it matter, if they were found out? Obi-Wan's lips caressed his, he could taste his lover's tongue when his lips opened, and he was warmed and soothed, and calmed. The pain was gone.

He felt it all as if it were actually happening. His body reacted as if Obi-Wan's was there. Curled on his side, he shifted one leg forward and reached behind himself, felt a smooth hip, held it and pulled it closer. The hot, heavy weight inside him was real.

Breath on his neck, panting and hungry. Little nips, kisses, and whispered words of love.

Gentle thrusts that built slowly to something less gentle but still slow and sweet. This was the way it had never been. Not between them. The long, slow build to arousal, the near-painful tug of fullness that just grew better with every stroke, the heat between his own legs that begged and was rewarded with a strong, calloused hand that circled it and pulled with the same tenderness. 

A thumb ran over the leaking head of his erection and Qui-Gon gasped, moaning Obi-Wan's name, arching back into the slow thrusts, meeting them with his own, feeling the pressure of sleek loins against his ass as Obi-Wan pressed close at the peak of each, held himself there for those few extra seconds before pulling away and repeating the movement. Tight balls slapped gently against Qui-Gon's own and he shuddered, his free hand covering the one on his cock, showing the way, then stretching out before him, clenching in the bedclothes with whitened knuckles, clinging to the only anchor he had in reality.

Because none of this was real. Obi-Wan was in his mind, and through his mind he was in Qui-Gon's body, making love to him with a sweetness that demonstrated the sweetness of Obi-Wan's soul. Qui-Gon wondered, in a brief flash of self-interest that faded almost before it was thought, what his soul would show if he tried to do this to Obi-Wan.

Certainly not this incredible, joyful, loving tenderness. Qui-Gon was valued, treasured, longed-for, and he felt it to his cells.

The Force rejoiced. Quietly, between them and through them.

There was no way anyone in the Temple could be unaware of this. But they didn't care. It had gone too far. Now there was only love, and more love, and the sweet burn of desire, and the exquisite torment of release.

He felt Obi-Wan's heat fill him, felt the wetness even as it began to seep out of his ass, and then the sense of his lover began to fade. The bond was narrowing, collapsing in on itself.

/No!/ He cried in his mind, sorrow welling. He couldn't let it go.

/I am coming to you./ Obi-Wan said softly. /You might hurt until I get there, but I will come./

/I will wait for you./ Qui-Gon responded as softly. 

/We are more than we have been./ Obi-Wan told him, and there was surprise in that voice. /Qui, I'm afraid. What will we become now?/

/We will be lovers, in the Force./ He answered. /I don't know the word for it, but there must be one somewhere. I'll find it./

/And the Council?/ The bond was returning to its previous quiescent state.

/Will do what they must./

Suddenly exhausted, Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan slipping away. 

/ Don't go./ He begged. /Please don't leave me.../

"I won't, Qui-Gon." A deep voice replied, and a strong hand gripped his. Qui-Gon opened his eyes and stared into Mace's face. "I won't leave you." His friend said. 

He looked around. He was in an assigned room at the healers'. His head hurt, and every muscle in his body ached. It was hard to breathe, there was a fierce pain in his chest.

"Mace?" Where was Obi-Wan? How had he gotten here?

"It's alright." A second large hand soothed his head with a cool cloth. "The healers are still trying to find out what happened. I found you burning with fever, unconscious, in my bed, not long after I left. You've been here for three days. Apparently there's something else going on here besides bad Eutrusian snowbird." He smiled, but his worry was clear.

"I need -" Qui-Gon bit his lip, and shifted slightly on the soft bed. His body responded sluggishly, but he felt the reminder of the love he had made with Obi-Wan. It had been real, real enough to leave its touch on his body.

"Water?" Mace offered it, but Qui-Gon turned his head away, nauseated by the thought of drinking. "You're badly dehydrated, Qui-Gon, you need to try and drink some."

"I need to sleep." He said at last. He didn't understand. Everything hurt. It was hard to think, too hard.

"Rest would be good, too." Mace sighed, giving in too easily. Qui-Gon thought suddenly to wonder how long he had been this way. 

Would Obi-Wan be here soon? 

Closing his eyes, he slipped into a pained doze, listening hopefully to the voices around him. But none belonged to the man he needed to hear. They talked about him, said things about his mental state being 'disrupted', that his body was 'shutting down'. Apparently the healers could find no explanation for his strange, sudden illness. 

They thought he was going to die, but Qui-Gon knew better.

It had been so long since they had seen a pair of bonded Jedi that they didn't even recognize what was happening to him. He considered telling them, but it seemed like too much effort. Obi-Wan would be here soon, and he would explain it to them.

He would feel better when Obi-Wan got here.


End file.
